


The Different Kinds of Loss

by Stuff (rosegardenlake)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Slice of Life, dementia-like symptoms, im bad at tags im sorry, minor sheith, possibly disturbing descriptions of a sick man, trying to cope with loss that's not death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 09:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14102151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegardenlake/pseuds/Stuff
Summary: Keith finds his father.  It's not what he had wanted.





	The Different Kinds of Loss

When his mother had turned to him with serious eyes and said in a whisper, “he’s different.  I want you to be prepared,” he thought he could handle whatever life could throw at him. Now, in the silence of this room, just the two of them, he’s thinking maybe he can’t.

The room is big and spacious, but there isn’t much filling it so it seems lonely somehow.  There’s a bed near the wide open window overlooking the galaxy. A cabinet that holds a single picture frame.

Keith doesn't walk forward. He just stands there and stares.

The figure laying in the bed doesn’t move.  He’s as still as if he were sleeping, only he isn’t.  His eyes are cracked open as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Dad...?”  Keith whispers.

But it’s not his dad.  After all these years, Keith can still tell.  He’s so small and fragile looking, even as Keith hovers at the doorway, feet away.  The strength, the energy that his father had once housed in his powerful body is gone with no telltale trace that it had ever existed.

This is not his father.  It’s a shell of someone else.

Keith takes a small step forward and tries to take a breath in, but it’s difficult.  The air is sharp, like medical supplies, and he can almost feel the sickness in the air.  Is it dark like death? Is it going to snuff the life from him too?

“Dad?”  He whispers again.

The man on the bed has different eyes than his father had.  They are holes in a skull, sunken in and too-big. The skin on his face is paper-thin and it looks like it’s barely hanging on, like it needs to be glued back but it hasn’t been and it’s just swimming over his bones.  If Keith were to breathe too hard, the skin might just flutter away.

And the color of it.  It’s not right. It’s all pasty and grey, like ash, not like a person.  Definitely not like his sun-kissed father. The golden tan of the man Keith knew and loved and looked up to.  Where is he?

Keith swallows hard and takes a hesitant seat beside the bed.

“...Dad,” he tries again.  He doesn’t expect an answer and it’s more for his sake than anything else.

But his dad’s eyes swirl in their sockets and he swivels his head over to look at Keith.

It knocks the breath right out of Keith’s lungs.  It’s almost as if he’s soulless. That’s the first thing Keith thinks.  They’re looking at him, but there’s nothing behind them. Keith stares in and can’t find his way back out and it’s terrifying.

Keith tenses; all sorts of wrong, it’s all wrong.  And he tries to hold still. Tries to be brave. This is a person he had loved, isn’t it?  He can’t just abandon him because of what he looks like. But this is somehow worse than facing an enemy.  An enemy you can fight off, get rid of. This is the shriveled up ghost of his father. This is something he cannot fix, can only endure.

His dad’s mouth gapes open and, for a moment, Keith thinks he might speak.

He doesn’t.  He opens his mouth and closes it, confusion spilling all over his face.

Keith swallows hard.  “Do you...need something?  Want me to get Mom? I mean...Krolia?”

“Thirsty,” Keith makes out.

There’s a cup and some food that Krolia had mentioned she was trying to feed him earlier.  Keith looks over at the cup and back to his dad. “Can you hold it? Should you sit up?”

He shakes his head.  Mumbles something. Holds his hands out for it.

Keith shifts forward, hands going out uselessly.  He doesn’t know what to do. He’s trembling. He can feel himself freezing up; this sickness rising up in his stomach and threatening him.  He just wants to run away. This man isn’t his father. Keith doesn’t know who he is, but it’s not him. Keith doesn’t know him. And he hates himself for thinking that.

Keith swallows hard and slips his hand beneath his father’s paper skin, and, as gently as he possibly can, lifts his father’s body so he’s sitting up against the softness of the pillows.

There’s no emotion on his father’s face.  There hasn’t been for the entire time. It’s just empty eyes and a slack jaw and twitches in his brow and muscles that mock emotions, but there’s nothing in his eyes.  Keith pretends he can’t see it and hopes that’ll make it true. He grabs the cup of water and holds it out for his dad.

“Want me to help?”  Keith asks softly.

Every movement of his father’s looks automatic.  There’s a certain quality to it that’s stiff and practiced, still with that strange air of uncertainty, the lack of intention.  His hand wraps around the cup and he brings it to his lips but he can’t manage to get it into his mouth and it makes a mess. It dribbles all the way down his jaw and neck and as he pulls it away, the cup slips from his hands.

Keith catches it before it goes everywhere, but his heart lurches.  His father. His father who had used to bounce him as a boy on his shoulders, toss him into the air with these two arms, can’t even manage to hold a cup.

Keith felt like he had lost him those years ago when his father had left, but this is a different kind of loss.  His father is right here, right in front of him, but never has he felt so distant.

His eyes are just empty.

“It was Zarkon and his witches,” Krolia says from behind him.  She had snuck into the room at some point and is standing there, arms crossed at her chest.  “I told your father it was a risk but he wanted to ensure the Blue Lion would be there for you.  He wouldn’t leave until he was certain.”

Keith stares at that hollow sunken in face.  “I never piloted the Blue Lion.”

“But it took you from Earth.”

“...That’s true, I guess.”  He almost doesn’t want to ask it.  It seems like a naive and foolish question to even think: “will he never come back?”

She shifts off the wall and walks to Keith’s side, standing still with her arms crossed, looking into his face through eyes that are used to such a sight.  “I don’t know. Nothing we’ve tried has helped. They said maybe if he goes home, in familiar landscapes, surrounded by familiar people...” She flashes a sad smile at him.  “But that’s not an option right now.”

“He looks like a shell.”

“He has his bad days and his good days.  We had almost an entire conversation a little less than a week ago.  Didn’t we, love?” She whispers, taking a careful step forward and gently placing her hand to cup his cheek.

His mother’s face is so warm and full of love as she stares down at him.  Keith follows her gaze and scopes out his father’s face for any sign of recognition, but there’s nothing.  There’s that same emptiness. Keith doesn’t know how she can hold its gaze and not crumble beneath its weight.

But she stays there, looking happy.

“What do you talk about...?”  Keith wonders.

“The universe.  What’s for dinner.  You.” She turns, a softness still on her face as she holds Keith’s gaze.  “He likes to talk about you the most.”

“He doesn’t even see me,” Keith whispers.

She hums in the back of her throat, weaving her lithe fingers through her husband’s hair that’s brittle and fine now.  “Not quite the reunion you had hoped for... But he’s still here, somewhere deep inside. I see it some days.” She’s quiet for a moment.  “You can’t give up hope.”

“He’s a skeleton.”

“He’s your family.  And he still loves you.”

“I don’t even think he remembers his own name anymore, let alone mine.”

She’s undisturbed by his pessimism.  She just keeps running her hands through his father’s hair, warm content smile on her face.  “Some days are better than others,” she says again. “Come back tomorrow.”

He does.

The next day, Keith comes in while Krolia is feeding him.  His father is talking and his eyes don’t seem quite as blank.  Keith thinks maybe, just maybe, there is something to this miraculous “good day” and he can feel hope sparking in his chest.  Only, the words his father is saying don’t really make sense. He’s talking about Iverson as if he’s in the other room, assignment in hand, twenty years in the past.  And then he starts talking about the fourth of July and the sort of fireworks he wants to set off on the dam. There is no dam. They’re nowhere near Earth.

His mother is in the conversation, humming and responding as if it all makes sense.  Laughing.

Keith can’t pin down the feeling writhing and twisting inside of him, but it’s more uncomfortable than he can bear.  He almost just leaves right then and there.

“Oh.  It’s Keith,” Krolia says, tilting her head slightly so she can look over at him.  “Good morning, Keith. How did you sleep?”

“...Good,” he says lowly.  Cautiously, as if his father might transform into something even worse than his worst nightmare that he’s living right now, he forces himself to walk forward.

“That’s good.”

“Oh,” his dad says, and his eyes light up as he looks at Keith, like he actually remembers him.  Hope flares in Keith’s heart, but then his dad says, “I have a son named Keith. Have you seen him?  He’s just a child, but he’s so talented. You won’t believe it when he gets older. He’ll be amazing.”

“This is him, my love,” Krolia murmurs, running her fingers in circles up and down his arms.  “He’s grown up. Isn’t he wonderful?”

“I’d love for Keith to get to meet you.  You’re part of the Blade of Marmora? Keith would love you.”

“I’m sure he would,” she chuckles.

“Dad?”  Keith whispers, pressing his hands to his chest.  “It’s me. It’s Keith. I’m your son.”

“We’ll see him again,” his dad says.

“ _No_ ,” Keith forces out, shaking his head.  He tries to hold back the wave of emotion that is crushing him.  His nose burns. “It’s me. I’ve been looking for you since the day you left...”

His dad blinks, innocence on his features.

“I’m your son,” Keith whispers harshly.  “I’m your son.”

“Yes,” he nods.  “I’m sure your father’s very proud of you.”

“It’s me,” Keith whispers again, but his voice breaks.  “ _It’s your Keith_.”

“Can you tell him where I am?”  His father asks. “If you’re ever on Earth?  You’re human, aren’t you?”

Keith presses his lips together tightly and rubs at his face roughly.  “Yeah,” he forces out. “Of course.”

“This is a good day?”  Keith asks his mother later, bitterness on his tongue and in his heart.  “This is all we get?”

“It’s more than a lot of others get, Keith,” she says softly, her face actually sad, reflecting the situation for once.  “I know it’s hard. I know it’s not what you wanted. Believe me, none of us wanted it. But it’s the hand we’ve been given, so we’ve got to make the best of it.”

“He’s like a corpse already...  He looks like he’s _dead_.  He doesn’t know what’s going on.”  He shakes his head quickly, trying to deter the tears that are burning at the back of his eyes.

“He’s still alive,” she assures him.  "His body is perfectly healthy now."  

"I know he's not dead..." he says softly, "but somehow, it feels like we've already lost him."

“He’s still there.”

But he’s not.

This man, on his good days, is like a baby.  Like an innocent naive youth. Keith remembers his father for who he really was: tall and proud with that crooked lively grin.  He was full of life and spirit. He’d burst through the door in early mornings and walk straight into the blazing sun, hopping on his bike and charging forward in a blaze of energy.

But this man could never do that.  He can hardly hold a spoon before he starts to shake.

He is a shell, a grey, sunken shell, bloated in all the wrong places, and already carrying with him the scent of decay.  There are no answers here. Keith feels so helpless and lost, like he’s been following a treasure map for years and he finally is standing over the x, but the treasure is gone, stolen years ago from right beneath his nose.  He can never get his time back with his father. He can never yell at him and tell him what a shitty move he’d made by leaving him those years ago. There’s no longer any waiting for the day he finds him, there’s no father left to find.  There will be no relief. There will be no resolution. This is it. Sitting here in sunken eyes and a dazed empty smile.

It is a hard thing to swallow.

“Can you watch him today for me?  I have a few things to take care of.”

Keith hesitates.  It’s his dad. He’s been searching for him since forever and finally, he’s here, in his lap.  But seeing him scares Keith so badly.

He nods his head slowly.

Krolia pats him on the shoulder.  “Thank you. I know how hard it is.  It gets easier, I promise you.”

He doesn’t know if he wants it to get easier.  He knows it’s selfish and terrible of him, but he’s not sure if he wants this image of his father to mix with the image he already has of him - tall and regal.  Thinking such horrible things makes Keith upset all over again, in a different way. And he spends most of the day sitting at his father’s bedside with his knees brought up closely to his chest and tears in his eyes, watching his father’s slackened face.

“Can you remember me?”  Keith tries sometimes when he has a burst of courage.  “We used to stargaze together on the rooftops. You taught me all the constellations there were to know.”

“I used to work at a mall,” his father says.  “I miss it sometimes.”

“No, you didn’t.  That was the show you were just watching.  You worked at the Garrison. Don’t you remember?”

“Remember?  Oh. Huh.”

“Aren’t you in there somewhere?”

“I wish Keith were here.  You two could be friends.”

“Can’t you remember Zarkon?  Krolia? The Blue Lion? _Me_?  Can’t you remember anything?  Anything at all?”

HIs father just stares at him, but it’s like he’s looking right through Keith and that hurts more than if his father were in eternal slumber.

It’s too much for the day.  Keith feels like he’s being smothered and he can’t take anymore before he pops.  He pushes his way out of there, seeking out Krolia. He opens her door, ready to tell her he just can’t do this anymore, when he stops.

She’s always upright, tight, in-control posture and casual self assured expression.  But she’s slouched over on the side of her bed, back turned to Keith, chest heaving with sobs.

...So even she cries too.

Keith only just met her a few months ago, but she has never cried in front of him.  Even when he sobbed in her arms after they’d been reunited after all those years. Even when he tried to blame everything on her disappearance and did his best to verbally tear her apart, she held strong through his pain and only tried her best to soothe it.

She’s stronger than anyone he’s ever met, and she’s in her room, broken.

He backs out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and returns to his father’s bedside.  Maybe he can bear some of the burden too.

 

“I’m glad things are going well on your end,” Keith hums to Shiro through the video.  “It sounds like everything’s almost perfect now.”

“Well,” Shiro huffs with a wry smile.  “I wouldn’t say perfect. There’s a lot to iron out, but it’s good.  You can take all the time off you need.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Keith says.

“Really.  Don’t worry about it.  I know you’re dealing with a lot on your end and things have really calmed down.  ...How’ve you been?”

Keith takes in a deep breath.  He can be real with Shiro, if no one else.  “It’s hard. But it does get better everyday.  He hasn’t recognized me, but...maybe I’m starting to recognize him...  If that makes any sense at all...”

Shiro’s voice is gentle.  “It does.”

“If you’re ever up for it, you should stop by sometime.  I’d like him to meet you.”

“I’d like that very much,” Shiro whispers.

It feels like a big step.  Each day, Keith’s defenses over his heart are loosening bit by bit and he’s starting to accept it, that this is his father.  That he’s still there. His love for Keith is in every mention of his son’s name. He’ll hold Krolia’s hand on good days. And even though Zarkon took his mind and harmed his body, he’s still that fighter, still clinging to life, still hanging in there at Keith and Krolia’s sides when all others would’ve perished.  That’s the fire in him that Keith knew, it’s still there, burning brightly, keeping him afloat, but it’s just there in a different way. And Keith sees even more of it on some days, when his father actually laughs, and it tugs at his heart.

He goes into his father’s room, taking in the view - it’s beautiful through the windows, all that deep richness of the galaxy, the infinite places to go to, but he’s right here, right with his mother and his father.  He walks to the bed and places his hand on his mother’s shoulder, who has fallen asleep, her head leaning on his father’s shoulder, who is also asleep.

She inhales sharply, turning to look up at Keith, blinking at him owlishly.  “What is it?”

“I can take over for the rest of the day.  You can go get some sleep in an actual bed for once.”

A small smile warms her lips as she looks him over.  “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding.

She heaves herself up and rolls out her neck.  As she gives up the chair to Keith, she pats him on the shoulder, smiling a genuine knowing smile.  “I know he doesn’t always say it, but he loves us. He does.”

“I know,” Keith says, and he does.  So much has been taken from them, but they still have this much.  He nods his head. They’re still a family, just what he’s sought after his entire life.  It’s just a bit different than he expected it to be, but it’s still his, sewn at the heart with love.  “I know.”

“Sometimes it helps to talk to him.”  She pats Keith on the shoulder again and leans in.  She kisses him tentatively on the forehead. “Goodnight,” she says as she pulls away with an awkward shift.

“Goodnight,” he hums.

He takes his seat at his father’s side.

His father is still asleep.  He still has the sunken eyes and the dark circles.  There’s still the pale chalkiness of his skin and he’s bedridden.  It’s hard. And it hurts Keith everyday.

But he has his father back.  He does.

He reaches forward and takes his hand gently in his.

“Hey, Dad,” he whispers to his sleeping form.  “I talked with my boyfriend today. He says everything’s going well with the universe.  Looks like Voltron did it after all... When he gets some time, he’s going to come visit.  Would you like to meet him? I think you’d really like him. He’s everything good about this universe in one body.  You’ll see.”

He wipes away a tear and laughs softly.  “The others will probably want to meet you too.  They’re all really cool, but it might get a little loud in here.  I hope you won’t mind... I bet Mom will kick all of our asses,” he laughs again, pressing his lips together as he lets himself lean forward.  He leans his eyes against his father’s arm. It’s smaller than he remembered it, less muscle, but it still has a bit of his scent left and that brings Keith comfort.  “Did you make friends as you traveled the universe? Did you have tales you were waiting to tell me? ...I hope I’ll get to hear them someday, but it’s okay if you can’t do that too...  I love you, Dad. In this universe and the next, no matter how you’re hurt or what Zarkon or anyone else has taken from you. ...I know you’d still love me too, no matter what. Me too, Dad.  Me too.”

Keith squeezes his father’s hand tightly, not lifting his face as he weeps softly.

His father does not squeeze back.

It’s alright.  He’s not the father that Keith thought he’d be returning to, but he can still feel his love woven through the air like messages, in all the little things he says, even when they don’t make sense.  His love is all around them in the universe and Keith understands now why his mother still looks at his father’s shriveled body with such affectionate acceptance. He can feel it too.

And maybe that means something, even if his father doesn’t know it, maybe if Keith speaks to him as he dreams, maybe if he clings tightly to his hand, just maybe, his love can reach his father too, wherever he is.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chat with me [ on Twitter?](https://www.twitter.com/go__begreat)


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